The Kuznetsov Chronicles
by Lazy Chick
Summary: What happens when Boris orders Bryan to keep a diary about his fellow bladers? This story.
1. Atheism is a NonProphet Organization

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Beyblade… well, I don't sadly. It's a fact that will most likely never change. This is the last of the stories that belong to glitteredvixon06.

. . .

**Title: **The Kuznetsov Chronicles

**  
Genre: **Humour/Parody

**  
Rating: **T

**  
Summary: **What happens when Boris orders Bryan to keep a diary about his fellow bladers? This story.

**  
Warnings: **Yaoi, yuri, het, swearing, ninjas, mops, vampires, eyebrow talk, lemons, Santa Claus dress-ups, karaoke, Garland's smoothies…basically pure randomness. Don't say you haven't been warned. Proceed with caution.

. . .

**Chapter One: Atheism is a Non-Prophet Organization**

"Bryan, as head of the Student Representative Council, I want you to keep a record of your fellow bladers in a diary," said Boris, peering at from across his rather large desk.

Remind me why I'm head of the Student Representative Council? Oh, that's right. I wanted those extra brownie points to go on my job resume. Makes me look good. "A diary? Don't you mean organizer?" I mean seriously, a diary? That's what girls use!

Boris shook his head. "No Bryan, they're the same things."

I don't think he quite understands. Let me try again. I shook my head. "Only girls use diaries, Boris," I inform him. Maybe he doesn't know what a girl is? I mean, based on his sanity levels, I wouldn't be surprised. "Let's face is Boris, only girls, and Oliver, use diaries. Real men use organizers," I proudly declared. Let's see how he handles that brilliant piece of wisdom.

Boris simply shook his head again. I don't think he's too impressed with my knowledge. He's probably already regretting delegating this task to me. "In case you haven't noticed Boris, I am a man, a real man," I added. Well, that was kinda dumb. Of course I'm a real man. I'm not a hermaphrodite. And I never had a sex change. So therefore I am a real man. Okay, going to stop rambling now, he's talking again.

"I realize that Bryan," he replied bluntly.

What? That's it? Nothing else? No, 'are you sure about that, Bryan?'. Wait a minute. Am I questioning my own masculinity? Didn't I just tell myself that I am in fact a real man? …I'm  
not going to answer that question. "So…" I start, puffing out my chest to make up for my lack of manliness. "What do I have to do?" I'm sure he has already told me but I'm still getting over the whole diary incident.

Boris looks at me strangely. Whether it's at my manliness or my question I do not know. "As part of the council project, you are to keep tabs on your fellow bladers and record any interesting events that take place," he explained, suddenly sounding weary. "I expect detailed notes, Bryan."

"Detailed?" I asked, confused. So if someone, let's say Kai, decides to take a shit in the toilets, I'm meant to record this? What would I write? '6:34 PM, Thursday, July 2009 – Kai locks himself in toilet and shits.' Well, that certainly sounds appealing. Not. It sounds dirty. Speaking of dirty, would you like to hear a very dirty joke? (silence) I'm sure you do, here it goes. (silence) The boy fell in the mud. (cricket silence) Why aren't you laughing?

Boris coughed into his hands. I think he should have a cough drop. I'd offer him one…if I had any. Ah well, at least he had the decency to cough into his hands. "Could we please stay on topic, Bryan?"

Did I just speak my joke out aloud or did he just read my mind? I'm going to go with the latter. It sounds more plausible. I wouldn't put it past him. I'm going to have to be more careful around Boris now that he can read minds. Wait… if he could read minds then why are we having this conversation? Okay…maybe I did just speak aloud? "Erm…" Think brain! Think of something to say! "Me listening," I reply. I mentally slap myself in the forehead. Nice one Spartacus! Way to make a douche bag of yourself!

"You are to report to me your observations at the end of each week. If you have any questions, ask now."

"How detailed do I need to be and what do I cover? Second question first," I added, blinking furiously. Stupid eyelash just fell into my eye! How unlucky is that? Better get it out fast.

"Please cover something more than sex. Frankly, I'm not interested in your sex lives," said Boris, sighing. That's okay, I don't have a sex life. "Sex, sex and sex, that's all you teenagers seem to do. Why…back in my day…" Oh god, here we go.

"Um, sir?" I blinked, three times. The extra two times were to get rid of that stupid eyelash plaguing my left eye. Don't you just hate that when that happens? When an eyelash falls into your eye randomly, out of the blue and you're having an important discussion trying to be normal and all but that eyelash causes you to blink so much you look like an idiot? Wow…that was a very long sentence.

"…we used to grow hair on our backs to keep us warm during those cold, winter months…"

That I did not need to know. Thanks for implanting disturbing mental images in my head Boris.

"…then, on the last day of winter, we would get together and have mass shaving celebrations…"

I certainly did not need to know that piece of information. Great. Now I won't be getting any sleep tonight. Not that I do, with all that moaning, groaning and all those other verbs ending in 'ing', happing next door. Speaking of moaning, well actually, thinking of moaning, I really need to discover the source of all that noise. I thought Spencer's snoring was bad, but that moaning really makes it hard to sleep.

"And when I say shaving, I mean shaving all our bodies. Head hair, eyebrow hair, nose hair, chest hair, arm hair, leg hair, pubic hair…"

ARGH! Cough. Splutter. Choke. Cough. I DID NOT NEED TO KNOW THAT! God…I always knew something was strange about Boris. And now, I know. Unfortunately. God, I think I'm going to be sick. Wait, why am I talking about God? I'm not religious. I belong to a non-prophet organization called atheism.

"Oh yes, that reminds me. Miss Judy Tate will be presenting a sex-ed talk to you bladers tomorrow," he laughed at the thought. "Well, Mrs. Tate."

My eyes widened in shock and I swear my heart just skipped a beat. "Mrs. Tate?" Did she remarry her ex-husband? What's his face, Trevor? I don't know… Max never told anyone his fathers' name. But I do think Trevor is quite fitting don't you agree? So Trevor it is.

"Judy and I are getting married," he stated calmly.

"WHAT?!!!" I shrieked, almost falling out of my chair in shock. I don't know what's more disturbing - Boris participating in mass pubic hair shaving celebrations or Boris marrying someone who is thirty years younger than him? I suppose it wouldn't be out of place and all, it's quite common these days. To marry someone thirty years younger than yourself that is, not mass pubic hair shaving celebrations. That would just be wrong. Thinking of marriage, I just hope they don't try for a child. I mean…ew…bad thoughts Bryan, bad bad thoughts.

"Congratulations, Sir!" I exclaimed, regaining my composure. "Well done." I forced a happy smile. Smiling doesn't come naturally to me like smirking and sneering does.

"Thank you, Bryan. Ah…now where was I?" he asked himself. "Oh yes, your dia-"

That's it. No more mister nice-guy. I stood up from my chair. "IT'S A FUCKING GODDAMN FUCKING ORGANIZER!" I screamed. Quite loudly in fact. I'm sure Boris was quite surprised by my sudden outburst of anger. I know I was. I'm usually very quiet. Unless I'm angry. Then I'm loud. I mean, you can't smash things quietly can you?

Boris raised a purple eyebrow. "Finished Bryan?" he didn't seem as surprised as I thought he'd be. I guess he's gotten used to my random outbursts of anger.

I nodded and sat back down. "Yes Boris." Who the hell has purple eyebrows anyway? Why not go for something more masculine? Like…erm…orange or something. Oh, I don't know. Anything but purple. Or pink. I don't like pink. Anyhow, pink is Mariah's colour just like wearing disco pants is Tala's thing and pimp pants are Kai's. Did that make any sense? No? Yes? Does anyone really care? You know what? Maybe I'll just stop rambling now. Yeah. Sounds like a good idea.

Boris pointed at the door. "You can go now, Bryan."

I nodded, stood up and walked out the door.

…

Review and tell me what you think so I can tell the author


	2. Purple Haired Men Are Sexy Beasts

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Beyblade… well, I don't sadly. It's a fact that will most likely never change. This is the last of the stories that belong to glitteredvixon06.

. . .

**Title: **The Kuznetsov Chronicles

**  
Genre: **Humour/Parody

**  
Rating: **T

**  
Summary: **What happens when Boris orders Bryan to keep a diary about his fellow bladers? This story.

**  
Warnings: **Yaoi, yuri, het, swearing, ninjas, mops, vampires, eyebrow talk, lemons, Santa Claus dress-ups, karaoke, Garland's smoothies…basically pure randomness. Don't say you haven't been warned. Proceed with caution.

**Chapter Two: Purple Haired Men Are Sexy Beasts**

I walked out of the room furiously attacking my nose. Okay, not really 'attacking' it per say, but I was rubbing it hard enough to turn it red. Don't you just hate allergies? I'm not sure exactly what it is I'm allergic to but I do know I'm allergic to cats. But enough about cats and more about me.

Well, as you already know I am head of the Student Representative Council. I only accepted the offer because I desperately need those extra brownie points on my resume. But you already knew that. But what you didn't know was that I had gotten myself fired from my last job as a librarian. Yes. A librarian. Why are you surprised? _(narrows eyes)_ You think I wouldn't make a good librarian don't you? _(huffs and pouts)_

So…I guess you want to know whether or not I am going to tell my lovely friends about the upcoming wedding. I'm sure they'll be thrilled _(rolls eyes) _not. I can picture their reactions – Spencer will rave on about lemons, Ian will try to convince me he can speak in another language using his eyebrows and Tala and Kai will be busy screwing each other to notice. Yes. My friends aren't very normal. I am the only sane one around unfortunately.

But I want to tell someone. But I can't. I don't have many _friends. _The White Tigers especially hate me after the whole Rei episode. You see, Rei bought this wicked awesome chocolate bar I wanted. It was the last one. I asked if I could have it nicely. The bastard said no. So you know what I did? _(silence) _Of course you don't, that's why I'm going to tell you. To put it simply, I punched him in the nose. Very hard. He ended up with a broken nose.

Rei refuses to get it fixed so he kinda has a nose similar to Owen Wilson. Everytime he sees me, he points at his nose to remind me of the day I broke it. He's never forgiven me. And neither have his stupid friends. So I can't talk to them out of fear they will claw me to death.

Hmm. Who else could I talk to? The horror show rejects the Dark Bladers? Or the I-have-a-giant-stick-up-my-ass Majestics? How about the-we-have-bitbeasts-named-after-gods-because-we're-too-incredibly-lame-to-think-of-something-new BEGA League members? I am certainly not talking to Team Psykick. They'll try to give me a fortune cookie or a palm reading. And let's not forget – they're copycats. I don't want them cramping my style. Stupid copycats. I will also not talk to that mullet freak Gordo and his friend Zeo. Nor will I talk to the royal pair, King and Queen. Can you tell I'm loved by all?

I'm not left with a lot of options – Saint Shields, All Stars, Barthaz Battalion, BBA Revolution and FDynasty. With each team having one member that pisses me off – maybe I'll talk to the school psychiatrist (_nods). _Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.

.

"So Bryan, what is your problem?" asked Voltaire, looking directly at me from across the floor, legs crossed.

Why are we sitting on the floor? Good question. "Why are we sitting on the floor?" I asked. "Legs crossed might I add," I said, looking down at my legs. I must say, I have nice legs. Whoa Bryan, that was random.

"The chairs and table have been moved to Stanley's office, your new headmaster," Voltaire replied.

That old crackpot? "I hate the floor."

"And why is that?" Great. Now he's acting all creep-like.

"I have hemorrhoids," I responded bluntly. Actually, I don't but that's not the point. The point is my ass hurts!

Voltaire raised an eyebrow. "And how does that make you feel?"

"Like shit," I replied snappily.

"And why is that?"

I'd hate to be a psychiatrist. Sitting down with crazy people all day and helping them would drive me bonkers. I mean, imagine if you had to deal with a nutter like Kane? What would you do? Absolutely nothing. He'd be too busy trying to read your palm. "Boris told me his life story and his future plans," I explained.

Voltaire nodded, understanding. "I remember those days," he said solemnly.

I think my heart almost stopped beating. "What?"

"Shaving our body hair and mud wrestling."

Mud wrestling? Why must God torment me like this? What did I do? Santa didn't need to check his list twice for me! I'm good! "Mud wrestling?" I blinked.

Voltaire nodded. "Very enjoyable times. Following the mass shaving ritual, we would all join in some mud wrestling. All in the nude of course," he grinned and chuckled at the thought.

"The women too?" I blurted out.

He shook his head. "Only men participated. The women would keep themselves busy making good use of our hair."

COUGH. SPUTTER. CHOKE. COUGH. Not again. Not more traumatic images. This just isn't my day.

"Headmaster Stanley was thinking of holding a day similar to it."

"You mean, we're all meant to shave our body hair and join in mud wrestling games whilst the women played around with our pubic hair?" Could this day get any worse? Apparently yes it can.

"It would be lots of fun for all students," he said, wagging his eyebrows at me.

I shook my head vigorously. "I do not thinks so, sir." Thinks? All this talk about shaving is messing with my ability to speak!

"And why is that Bryan?"

I mustered up my best smile. "I do not wish to shave or mud wrestle," I said, using my best disproval voice which really, wasn't different from my normal tone. "And I'm sure no one else would – okay, maybe Tala would but he has a few screws loose so he doesn't count."

"That's not very manly Bryan. All men participated to prove their manliness."

Would everyone please stop making fun of my manliness? It's demeaning. "Look, I don't enjoy stuff like that."

"How does that make you feel?"

What the fuck? "What?"

Voltaire shrugged. "It's part of my job."

Erm, okay. "Look man, I know your heart is in the right place but no one really wants to participate." Whoa, where did that come from?

He looked at me, eyes full of concern. "Why so miserable Bryan?" Who does he think he is? The school psychiatrist… oh wait, he is. My bad.

"I do not wish to see my friends' wave around their parts, Voltaire. I see enough of that."

Voltaire arched his eyebrows. "Are you gay Bryan?"

Am I gay? "NO I AM NOT!" I screamed. "Do I look like Oliver to you?" I demanded, hands on hips glaring.

Voltaire sighed. "I was joking Bryan."

I pouted. "It wasn't very funny," I said, standing up from the floor. "I must go now." And without waving goodbye, I exited the room.

.

My God, that was a traumatic experience. Voltaire was always a creepy bastard, but now he was a hairy, perverted, creepy bastard. Back hair? Mass shaving rituals? Mud wrestling? No wonder the man did not marry again. You see, his wife ditched him for a man with purple hair.

Speaking of purple hair, why do women find purple haired men sexy? Although now that I think about it purple haired men are sexy beasts. Sure, they're a sore sight for the eyes but there's something about that purple hair that messes with the ladies' minds…even with some of the men too. I'm pretty sure I caught Oliver checking out his captain, Robert Jurgen the other day.

Yup. I said it. Robert Jurgen. The Grouch. Or Rob the Snob. I also like Robbie. That drives him insane. He hates being called 'Robbie', he claims it's uncouth. Robbie just sounds cute don't you think? It's the name mothers call their newborns when they want old people pinching their cheeks until they turn red. Thank God I was never called Robbie.

Anyway…Robbie is one sexy hot beast and that's coming from a straight guy like me. With his large nose, thick eyebrows and menacing glare, you'd think people would run the opposite direction. But no, they do not. Why? The purple hair. Do you think I should dye my hair purple? Not that I have trouble picking up chicks because I am in fact an expert in chick-picking-ups, but maybe… I guess that wouldn't be a good idea. Otherwise people would assume that I am copying Robert and Boris.

Don't assume I'm gay though. Because I'm not. I'm as straight as ruler. As straight as a non-flexible ruler. You know the ones I'm talking about? They look like rulers (because they are rulers) but you can bend them and slap people with them? Yup, flexible ruler wars are back in fashion. And yes, before you ask, not only am I head of the student representative council, I'm also the champion of flexible ruler fights.

Anyhow… I must find someone to talk to. Maybe I'll talk to Max? I wonder if he even knows? He'll most likely flip out and shit bricks when I tell him. Heh heh, that'll be amusing to see. Unless of course he does know.

_Bryan._

What the hell? Am I hearing voices?

_It's Falborg, dipshit. _

Did I ever mention my bitbeast can talk to me?

"What do you want?" I said aloud.

_I need a bath. _

Great. Time to give Falborg a bird bath. (sigh) I hate my life. Now usually, birds can clean themselves. But not Falborg. Unfortunately, as mighty as Falborg is, she's clueless when it comes to hygienic matters. Hence the reason why I have to clean her. I'm pretty sure no one else has to clean their bitbeasts…

I guess it's better than discussing Boris's marriage plans though. Honestly, that guy needs some serious help. I'm sorry, but I just can't let go of the past. Mass shaving rituals???? With what, razor blades? God. Disturbing. Speaking of disturbing, I read this story about this man who humps cars. Yes. He attempts to have sex with cars. Isn't that weird? Does he think he is going to get the car with child or something? (shakes head) Too many freaks, not enough circuses.

_Yo Bryan, you listening to me or what? _

Since when did Falborg learn ghetto speak? Might have to pluck a few feathers for that attitude. Heh heh… featherless Falborg, that would be a funny site to see.

* * *

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